Fallout: Detroit
by Isaac Lorus
Summary: The War destroyed everything. The Vaults were the only salvation from the fiery Judgement. Detroit had one of those vaults. Vault 96 was filled with 1000 criminals before being sealed. It was expected that the inhabitants would kill each other within the year. They didn't.
1. Ruins of a Once Ruined City

Chapter 1: Ruins of a once Ruined City

War. War Never Changes.

The War changed things for everyone. The battles were never simple, nor clean. The casualties were many in numbers. Those who lived on the coasts lived in absolute fear. Those in Canada had their freedom stripped. Those in the south gathered what arms they could and prepared for the worst. No-one was really prepared for what had happened.

Nuclear Holocaust

That's a word that is often used to describe the destruction that decimated an entire planet and brought its indigenous inhabitants to a near extinction. Most species did go extinct. Oddly enough, however, many new kinds of creatures were created from this mass extinction event, at least from what I can tell. I have seen beasts that would have been described in pre-war novels written by famous authors and read by all, I have seen beasts that would instill fear into the bravest pre-war man.

The Wasteland has hardened us and we were able to tame a bit of it as a result. I've heard of a group of soldiers called the Brotherhood of Steel who have been keeping energy weapons away from all people outside of their ranks since, well, the entire post-war era.

I've met a few of them. Actually, I wouldn't say "met". I would say I looted and buried them instead. The Midwest is a cold and cruel mistress to those who don't know her. I've known her my whole life and she's been kind to me. The area of what once was the American Midwest was also once called Michigan. Before the war Michigan was mostly a shit-hole with a place called Detroit being the biggest shit-hole in the larger shit-hole. But because of that, I am here and I am alive.

The Vault in Detroit was numbered Vault 96. It didn't have normal inhabitants by any means. Before the war, Detroit had the highest crime rate in America, which would explain why the Vault was filled with 1000 criminals of all kinds of backgrounds. I don't know why though. My ancestor, who entered the Vault, was a murderer, but he didn't like it. When he was younger, he murdered his girlfriend when he found her fucking some other guy. He would feel the guilt of this passionate act for the rest of his life.

The Vault was expected to be devoid of life by the end of the first year. Surprisingly, only 84 inhabitants had died. The Vault-dwellers developed a set of laws and rules; they also knew that there wasn't a shortage of people who knew how to carry out punishments. This system continued to be improved upon. The government was a monarchy, meaning that there was one king (or in one case, queen) until he or she was replaced. Succession wasn't decided by birthrights, it was decided by a complicated process. For someone to become king, they had to defeat the previous king in a fair fight, but to even do that they had to have served in the Vault Security Sector for 5 years.

The fight would have both combatants begin wearing normal civilian clothing and they would be unarmed. The combatants would have already served in the armed forces so it wouldn't be a battle of brute force more than it was a battle of technique and skill. The fight would continue until one gave up, but most usually died before they even thought about giving up.

Kings were respected for the most part, though there were people who hated them. When a king died of natural causes, the funeral service would be led by his or her family. If the king died battling against a challenger, the challenger would lead the funeral service. I don't know the origins of this or why it was like this.

If a King died from natural causes his closest adviser would continue as a steward until a tournament consisting of aspiring soldiers was completed. These fights were different, however; the fight ended when a fighter couldn't continue fighting. This kept the population from taking a hit as 50 people would enter this tournament.

My grandfather met his wife during one of these tournaments. They were actually opponents which I always found hilarious. Apparently my grandmother whooped his ass in that fight. My grandmother went on to become the first and only Queen of Vault 96. Shortly thereafter she asked my grandfather out on a date and the rest is history. My grandmother was actually such a good Queen that no Vault-dwellers even wanted to attempt to take control.

About 3 or so years after my grandmother was crowned Queen, my father was born. My father's name was Michael Lorus. He was married to my mother by the time my grandmother died and my mother was already pregnant with me. My father lost in the finals of the tournament, earning him the role of High Advisor. And no, that doesn't mean that he was on the influence of drugs the whole time.

Our Vault opened in the year 2263. I was only a toddler when that happened so I have no recollection of it. Once again, more people were projected to die that year. This time, however, only 1 person died, my father. He died fighting the only Deathclaw in the entire Detroit area. I guess that it must have wandered here on its own, but it was apparently a bitch to take down.

I was born in the year 2260. I am the son of Michael Lorus and Joan Lorus-Neklovich (women always kept their maiden names as an addition to their taken ones.) My name is Isaac Jacob Lorus, and I am a survivor in the wastelands.

I woke up in a daze. After I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes I looked around. I was lying on the dirt near what was once one of the Great Lakes. There was still water there, but not even half of what it once was. I wonder what people would have done with so much water. Would they swim in it? I don't think so, it must have been so massive that there would have been something called… what was it again? I think it was called undertow. I stood up, grabbed my medium sized rucksack, and started heading back to town.

Town was about 2 miles away, a half-hour walk. Before the war, Michigan was covered with vast forests. It shows in the town and in the wasteland. Because the radiation killed most decomposing organisms, the dead trees were still on the ground when we left the Vault. We cleared out some land in what was once called Southfield, a suburb outside of Detroit, and used our G.E.C.K. to make the land somewhat fertile. We built the houses out of the wood we gathered when we cleared the land.

From the lakeside you can see the buildings that must have been a beautiful sight. I wonder what they might have looked like. I think of the shining glass reflections of the sun on their windows. Then my mind switched over to thugs smashing those windows with bricks. What a shame I thought. Those buildings deserved much more respect.

I started thinking of the 2 BOS soldiers that I found earlier in the week. The armor was torn and unusable. The bodies inside were almost completely decomposed; I guess you can thank our G.E.C.K. for bringing back the decomposing organisms. I found their dog tags. One read "PFC. James O'Connor" and the other "CPL. Sarah Johnson." Judging by their ranks, they were sent here from some sort of base that must have been set up some time ago. Maybe those BOS members were hunting down that Deathclaw and got shredded. I hope that's the case because if it wasn't the Deathclaw, whatever mutilated those Brotherhood soldiers might still be alive.

I was walking through the streets, occasionally peering into alleyways. One alleyway still had a body in it. I took out my shovel and buried the decomposed remains about 3 feet from where he or she died, although from the thin hips and long bones I assumed that it was male. After that I made a prayer. It might not help now, but it's still part of the burial ritual. I then continued my trip back home.

We had cleared most of the bodies a few years after the Vault opened, but there were still a few bodies every now and then. I would always bury the ones I found out of respect. Most of the bodies we found were in alleyways, we all assume that they were homeless. A bunch of "SOL SOB's" as my friends and I liked to call them.

Back in town, I have few friends due to my nomadic and curious nature. The 2 that come to mind first are Laura Hanes and Tomas Lathied (pronounced Lah-Tie-Eed.) We were a rather tight-knit group. Laura's father died from cancer while the town was still being built, and Tomas's father is the current king. Laura works in the medical field and Tomas works in Security, as expected from the son of the king. We've slowly been using the word Police instead of Security guards since that seems to fit much more now that we aren't stuck inside a confined space.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

I heard 3 shots fire in rapid succession. The shots sounded like they came from an assault rifle. The shots came from the south. I quickly turned to my left and ran towards the gunfire. My heart was racing. Who else could be here besides someone from town? Soldiers were the only ones with access to automatic weapons; and even then, they were not allowed to leave with their issued guns.

BOOM!

That was an explosion, no doubt about it. We don't have many explosives left in town, so all of the explosives that we do have are locked away in the Security Armory. We actually ran out of military-grade explosives so engineers had to make their own explosives. They are by no means as good as the old stuff. My father once told me a story about this explosive called "C4." He told me that it could blow a hole in any wall that you wanted it to. I'm pretty skeptical of that.

As I neared the south side of Detroit, I heard more gunfire until…

THUD!

"SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK!" I cried out as I fell over in pain. I had been shot in the shoulder.

"FUCK THAT HURTS!" Falling over onto the ground didn't help the pain.

While I was rolling on the ground with tears beginning to roll down my face. I could hear shouting. It sounded like two men, but their voices were muffled; they must be wearing helmets or masks. I could hear their footsteps now. "God damn it, is this how I die?" I thought.

"Just admit that you fucked up, Jason!" I could make out their words now.

"Like you can blame me! We're separated from the convoy, we don't know where we are, and we were ambushed by fucking Radscorpions!" They sounded like nice people.

I turned to them and shouted, "JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP AND HELP ME ALREADY!" They seemed surprised but were happy to oblige.

"Why the hell did you run at us?" The one called Jason said. I had my eyed clenched shut in pain.

"I was running to you, not at you, assholes!" I groaned. I take back everything I said when my dad got shot. Holy shit it hurts.

"Hold still, we gotta check the bullet hole." The other man said. I listened to him and held still. I waited a few minutes for an assessment.

"We're going to have to get the bullet out." He said solemnly. "The bullet is lodged in your shoulder bone, so this is going to hurt like a bitch."

"Just get the FUCKING bullet out!" I growled.

"I'm just lettin' ya know, we don't have any anesthetics, so get ready."

Look at what you got yourself into Isaac. You could've just gone to town, reported the shots and you would have been done with it. Now you've got a bullet in your shoulder and it's got to come out. 'At least this is interesting, right?' He thought. 'Shut the fuck up' I retorted…in my mind? Wait, what?

Everyone has that voice in the back of their head that comes out when you're standing next to a cliff or, in this case, about to have surgery. I appear to have a voice at the front of the head, a fucking asshole of a voice at that. I don't know whether it's my subconscious coping with the pain, or if I'm finally going crazy. I wouldn't prefer the latter.

"I'm gonna go in on 3. Ready?" The man said.

"Oh yeah, I'm totally ready!" I said sarcastically. The man laughed

"Well, smartass, that's too bad because 3."

He plunged a pair of pliers into the bullet wound. I instantly started screaming. I could hear howling of what sounded like wolves.

"What the fuck is that?" Jason said

"I don't know but shut this kid up." The man said.

A fist came swift and hard across my face.


	2. Pain

Pain.

Pain is what I awoke to.

The pain of a bullet wound.

The pain of a chipped bone.

The pain of what was most likely a concussion created by getting punched by an asshole.

The pain of bruises created from falling onto concrete.

I don't know when I regained consciousness. All I know is that it was at night. I opened my eyes and saw that we were in a building. It looked like an old restaurant. There was a bar about 5 feet to my right. I was placed next to the windows. I was asleep in what felt like a leather sort of makeshift sleeping bag. I could see one other sleeping bag against the bar. One of the guys was in it. He wasn't moving much, he must've been asleep. I was startled by the sound of footsteps not even a foot away from my head.

"Ah, Isaac Lorus lives." He said with a smile. I could tell by the clarity of his voice that he wasn't wearing the helmet anymore, but it was too dark for me to see him.

"How do you know my name?" I said with a little bit of nervousness. I was concerned. I began to wonder how much they knew about me.

"We took that little Pip-boy off of ya and had a little history lesson. We read your diary, listened to your voice memos, and checked your map. We know all about you, your town, your family, and your friends." I suddenly became aware of the lack of a large bracelet-like machine being on my right forearm. Now I was even more concerned. I don't know what his name is or what he even looks like, yet he knows everything about me.

"I'm not a threat to you at the moment, so I'll introduce myself. My name's Lucas Lafayette. My sleeping friend over there, his name is Jason Pierre. He's a pretty nice guy when he's not shooting at you." He chuckled a bit to himself. While I appreciated the effort to try and erase the abysmal impression this Jason guy left on me, he didn't exactly sell him as a particularly good guy either.

"He's actually really sorry about that by the way." He said after he finished chuckling. "He was pretty torn up about it actually. You see, he hasn't ever actually shot anyone. He's shot tons of Radroaches, Radscorpions, and things like that, but never a person."

"I've never shot anyone either, I've never had to." I said. Lucas sat down against the wall and sighed.

"Both of you are lucky." He said very sadly. I never thought about the aftereffects that fighting might have on the human psyche. It seemed to tear Lucas apart on the inside. Slowly wearing away at his sanity, although it seemed that he still had a will to live, I wonder what though.

"I've shot my share of bandits… probably more than my fair share actually." He laughed nervously, "Bandits are strange. They fight for money, fame, sex, basically everything that a man wants, but they are cast out of society." Lucas chuckled a little after finishing the sentence. "They are just more primal human beings. Sometimes I think that doctors should study them to see if they're the 'Missing Link' we've been looking for."

We both laughed at this. After we settled down, Lucas stood up and the moonlight finally allowed me to see his face. He was of European descent, you could tell from his skin tone and blonde hair. His facial structure led me to believe that he was of Swedish origin. His hair was down to his back and wavy, not quite curly. His nose was crooked; he probably had it broken during a fight. He has a few scars on his face, we all do in the wasteland but he had a few notable ones. A long scar went from his right cheekbone to his chin, not straight down the face, but curving down the side of his face. Another scar went across his forehead horizontally; it could easily be mistaken for a wrinkle if not for his young complexion.

"Where are you from? You're definitely not from around here." I asked curiously.

"I'm from Canada; a small town outside of the Windsor Ruins named 'Renouveau.' It's a French word that translates to 'Revival' in English. Our ancestors were members of a Canadian freedom fighting group named 'Légion canadienne liberté' which translates to 'Canadian Freedom Legion'. Our Ancestors broke into an unused Vault and survived the Great Flash. We later found out that the Vault was never intended to be inhabited for some reason. It had all of the equipment necessary for underground survival so a lack of equipment can't be it." Lucas explained

I was immersed in what Lucas was telling me. His mere existence was something that should not have been, something that wasn't planned. Just like me.

"Jason, over there, is my cousin on my father's side. He may seem dumb at times," He continued while gesturing at my bandaged right shoulder, "but he's actually really smart. He just has a problem with people most of the time. Sometimes I don't think he's all there, but I gottta keep him at least partially here for the time being."

There was another question that needed to be asked, "Why are you here?"

"We were travelling with a convoy of about 10 people that was traveling to a Brotherhood of Steel base in Ohio when we were ambushed by about 35 or so raiders. I killed a couple before grabbing Jason and getting the fuck out of there. It was a bloodbath. We outgunned them for sure, but they had manpower. We still gotta get to that base to see if anyone survived." He seemed sad, "I wonder if I should've stayed and fought them off."

"There was no way you could have fought all of them off; escape was the only option that ensured that you both would get out of there." I told him "And you are lucky just to get out of there ali-"

There was a howl of a wolf. It pierced everything and brought dread to your soul.

"What the fuck was that?" Jason asked, having been awoken by the call of the canine.

"What I do know that that was a wolf, and it sounds like a large one. In my town we call them the 'Guardians of the Forest' because of their territorial and protective nature. What I don't know is why it would be all the way out here in Detroit." I informed them, "Just make sure that you stay quiet and stay low. You don't have to worry about raiders and other such low-lives out here. So just go back to sleep."

Jason looked to Lucas for approval of this action. Lucas nodded as he sat down below the window. He shook his head and chuckled. Jason went back to sleep.

"And here I was, worried that a raider would put a knife in our backs while we sleep, or that you would. You guys must have a hard time keeping this place free of bandits." He said with relief.

"Not really, there's no one around for any raiders to rob besides us, and no one fucks with us" I said with a bit of pride.

Another question arose out of my subconscious, quite possibly the most important question in a situation like this, "can I have my weapons back?" I asked

"No. We know about your town, about its past, about its citizens ancestors." He seemed a little disturbed by what he had found out about town. "We know that all of your ancestors were major criminals; Rapists, Serial Killers, Mobsters, and even Pedophiles. We don't know if we can trust you just yet."

I was beginning to think that the situation may not be as friendly as I thought. 'I think we're being held hostage,' said a voice in my head that did, yet didn't belong to me. I was beginning to think that too.

I have always been good at deception and getting my way. I haven't had many good ways to use this ability due to the lack of politics in my hometown, but now might be different.

"Do you think that we would have survived for so long if we weren't at least mostly sane? You heard the howls, it would be better if you had a third person to shoot if the time came. So could I have my weapons back? You could at least give me Lotus." I asked.

"Who's Lotus?" He asked, puzzled by the name I had spoken.

"Lotus is my .44 revolver, she has a flower etched on her barrel." I explained.

He thought about it for a minute and then said, "sure, but it stays unloaded unless I say so."

I was fairly appreciative that I could be reunited with my family heirloom. "Thank you." I said

Lucas walked over to something that was near his cousin. I heard him open it, I could tell from the sound that it was my bag. I heard him search through it. He took out the gun and walked back to me. He put it in the moonlight and stared at it, and then spoke.

"It's beautiful, just simply beautiful." He admired the gun more, "the way that the flower is etched in makes it clear of the feelings the owner had towards the gun. The extension of the barrel shows that the owner also planned to use it. It's in great condition."

"Where's the ammo?" I asked.

He made a motion with the gun towards the bag, "Still in your bag. I like how organized it is."

"Thanks, I guess." I said while shrugging.

He handed the gun to me. The gun's hilt was made out of Ivory, one of the rarest resources known to man before the war. If a bandit got a hold of it, he wouldn't know how valuable this fine piece of craftsmanship was. I hated automatic weapons, and I hated shotguns more than that. Snipers and pistols were my forte; the skill needed to place one bullet in your target was something that I've always had an interest in.

He reached down to his hip and pulled out his gun. He quickly took out the magazine and made sure that the safety was on. He showed it to me.

"This is my pistol. An M1911 .45 ACP handgun with," he held up the magazine for me to see, "special military grade extended magazines. I also took out the magazine so that you'd trust me more."

He sat down once more and continued to speak.

"I don't have a name for her. Though, I don't know how long I'll be able to keep her." He said with a hint of sadness in his voice, "she kept me alive back at the ambush. I can't appreciate her enough for that."

"Lotus, well, she's kept my family alive since we lived in the Vault." I explained with affection towards my gun, "She's killed many men. She's never missed her mark, only the aim of her user will cause the bullet to miss."

Lucas chuckled and pointed to his cousin, "Jason prefers shotguns with slug rounds or buckshot. This allows him to stay a good enough distance from his enemies. He wants to make a mess but doesn't want to get dirty."

"That's fucked up!" I said, recoiling.

"You're a descendant of people who've done worse, so don't go judging him. It's actually pretty smart, If he makes a 'mess' out of a raider, then that raider just got taken out one way or another, whether it kills him, dismembers him, or simply puts him into shock." He explained, "It may not be as efficient or as clean as a sniper or a pistol, but it does more damage."

"So what you're saying is, someone who has less skill with guns should use shotguns?" I asked

"More or less." He shrugged. A small moment of silence signaled that it was time to change the subject.

"Why is Jason with you?" I asked him.

"It's rather simple actually. We both work in the same security sector so we got assigned to help protect the convoy." He said with a little chuckle.

"Yeah, and what a great job you guys did." I began laughing at my own joke. Lucas didn't find it so hilarious.

"Shut the fuck up!" he shouted. Jason rolled over quickly.

"What was that?" he asked. "Why are you shouting?"

"It's nothing; this guy's just being an asshole." Lucas explained, "now just go back to be-"

The glass shattered above us. We didn't see what came in because it moved to fast. But I knew what it was.

It was a Wolf.


End file.
